Knights and Sinners
by Redtailedfox
Summary: This is a sequel to Homunculus Gotham. The homunculus and their allies have their hands full with trying to find a way back to Amestris, and also trying to find a way to fend off the new threats lurking in Gotham.
1. Chapter 1

A.N. Okay, this is a sequel to Homunculus Gotham. I wasn't sure whether or not I was actually going to do this… so tell me what you think. By the way, in the last story, Stacy was the one who tried to lead them into the Riddler's trap.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tock.

The sound of the minute hand shifting positions startled her from her reverie, and she looked up with a sweet smile that she fancied herself an expert at. It was the smile of an innocent and it was the smile of a child, and at the same time it was a smile that fit perfectly onto the face of a young woman.

It was a smile that had won over many men and women alike. In fact, that smile had perhaps been her most powerful tool. In it, one would sense no deception, see no hidden lies. Her eyes would smile too, genuine and bright with naïve enthusiasm, reflecting whatever the recipient wished to see. It had been that smile that the Riddler had prized her for.

The Riddler, now a fresh corpse buried in a makeshift grave behind his own headquarters, had left her two things.

An army. She had been his second-in-command and as such she had been privy to all the inner workings of the criminal organization he had meticulously built up over the years. He had left her with incalculable power, contacts and soldiers at her disposal.

But, he had also left her enemies. Neither the Riddler nor his odd associate had managed to kill even one of the homunculi or their allies, and yes, she knew their secrets, how they were from another reality, how they were not exactly human. They were all alive, and by now they must surely have figured out her involvement in the plot.

They all stood against her, they all blocked her way. The Batman, the back-stabbing Scarecrow, and the siblings, Lust/Talon, the shapeshifter, and her Ling. Her beautiful, precious homunculi, who she knew was head over heels for her. She smiled, she could certainly use that.

"To them," she mused, speaking to herself, "I am the white rabbit who betrayed Alice."

"Or perhaps a merely annoying harlequin," a voice behind her suggested with a smile in her words.

"A harlequin?" the girl the homunculi had known as Stacy asked with a frown, snapping around and staring at her visitor, "That's rather insulting."

The new figure approached, and her appearance solidified as she drew closer. She was a young woman, tall and graceful, with caramel colored skin and silky dark hair. A slight smile tugged at her mouth. "I meant no offense," she said, "But I doubt they'd see you as much of a threat."

"Yes," the girl agreed. "Perhaps I can use that to my advantage." With a smirk, she stood and faced the visitor, "Very good to see you, Isley."

"That's Doctor Pamela Isley," the woman corrected. "And thank you. It's good to see you too, Harleen. I understand you have a bit of a problem on your hands, Quinzel."

"Oh yes indeed," Harleen Quinzel said, "Now, what _shall_ we do about it?"

"Whatever shall we do?" Lust purred, a slow, seductive smile creeping up her red lips, her violet eyes narrowed. "All alone, no villainous masterminds to speak of…." With a sigh, she turned and straddled the man sitting next to her. "Dear Bruce," she began again, lowering her face to his neck, and kissing him lightly. In a soft murmur she continued, "Tell me what you want to do today. Anything at all. I'm feeling generous."

Bruce Wayne grinned up at her, and placed his hands around her waist, pulling her playfully closer. "Anything at all, Lust?" he teased, "Don't be to rash."

With a laugh, she raised her head and kissed him deeply. "Really," she sighed, "I think I know what I'm getting myself into."

"I certainly hope so," he replied.

"What did I get myself into?" Greed asked, glowering at Envy.

"Shut up," Envy replied without looking at him, a thin line of concentration marring his brow. "Crane thought it was worth a shot, and I happen to agree with him." With a sigh, he stood, wiping sweat from his face. The paintbrush in his hand dripped red paint onto the floor, but Envy's task was done, a large section of Batman's cave had been converted into a miniaturized alchemy lab, the floor painted with the appropriated runes for making a philosopher's stone.

Greed languidly kicked up his feet, propping them on a nearby table, and admired Envy's progress from afar. "Nice," he complimented mockingly, "But who does the Scarecrow think he's kidding? There's no alchemy in this world."

Envy tossed the paintbrush on the ground and wiped his dirty hands on his jeans. "That Copper kid did alchemy here, and besides, Crane told me there were ancient alchemists here, and they seem to be the predecessor of modern chemists."

"Were they like _our_ alchemists?" Greed pressed, "And moreover, does anyone here have any sort of alchemic ability? Aside from Mason Copper, who's now dead. Any anyway, why would we need a stone? I like it here. Do you really want to go back to good old Amestris where everyone hates you?"

"Shapeshifter, remember?" Envy snarled, "And an exit plan is always good, just in case we blow our lives here, or just get bored. And as for alchemic ability, how hard can it be, right? We'll just try and find someone here who can do it."

"If anyone can. Where is Crane, anyway?"

"Not sure. He said he had to go find some blue poppy, that he was running low of his fear gas supply, or some shit like that."

"Not that you care, of course."

"Why the hell should I?" Envy asked calmly, "He's a human. One that may be necessary for the completion of this little project, but a human nonetheless."

"Huh," Greed said.

Envy walked forward and shifted forms, taking on an appearance identical to Edward Elric's. "And how about you?" Envy asked in his usual voice, waving Edward's arm around for emphasis, "Are you really so uneager to get back to these loser's you called your friends?" Envy smirked with Edward's face, his gold eyes shining with cold glee, "But they're only human, right?" he asked softly, and Greed stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Find someone else to play with Envy," Greed told him coolly, "I'm not in the mood."

"Aren't you?" Envy asked, and this time his voice was a familiar feminine murmur, "But I haven't even gotten started."


	2. Chapter 2

Greed whipped around, his expression automatically contorting into a mask of rage-filled shock as he stared into the face of Ran Fan.

Her, or rather, Envy's, face was carefully controlled and perfectly modulated for emotion. Ran Fan/Envy wore a reserved smile and her eyes (_Envy's_ eyes, Greed reminded himself) were identical in color and to the look of guarded, professional concern Ran Fan herself had never fully mastered. Even her arm, hanging at her side, resembled completely the automail she had been forced to adopt, a true tribute to Envy's skills.

"What is this, Envy?" Greed hissed out through clenched teeth, balling his hands into fists and instinctively covering his knuckles and fingers with his shield. "Whatever you think you'll gain from this, you won't."

A brief flash of annoyance twisted Ran Fan's features, and Envy said in her voice, "You underestimate me, Greed. You've forgotten what I was. I've been a manipulator and so much more. I've torn family apart and cast doubt into the friendships of those who thought themselves close." And then, Ran Fan's face smoothed over into impassivity, and Ran Fan/Envy approached cautiously, and from her expression, Greed could see just how far Envy was planning on taking this little game of his.

"Ling…" Ran Fan/Envy said warmly, placing her hand on Greed's shoulder. He shoved her away, and her expression morphed into one of amused, cold calculation that seemed to define Envy, before it shifted again into an emotion that fit more easily onto Ran Fan's face. "What is it?" she asked, stepping forward, her automail arm glinting in the low, artificial light.

"I'm not Ling," he said flatly, adding with emphasis, "But you'd know that, Envy."

Envy ignored him. "Ling," Ran Fan/Envy repeated.

"I'm not Ling," Greed said, more forcefully. The drying paint underfoot lent a ghoulish atmosphere to the room, a sensation only enhanced when Ran Fan's smile increased, white teeth flashing.

"Aren't you?" Ran Fan/Envy asked, finally acknowledging Greed's statement, "You have his face, his body… in a sense, you are Ling. You even," she paused, and grabbed hold of Greed's hand, and the contrast of cold automail and warm flesh made him shiver. She flipped his hand over and showed him the unmarked flesh that had previously been occupied by an ouroboros tattoo. "Look," she pressed, and then dropped his hand with a faint smile, "Do you see Ling, or yourself, in the mirror every day?"

"Myself," Greed said, uneasily understanding where Envy was taking this to.

"Yes," Ran Fan/Envy agreed, "And is that because this face, Ling's face, belongs to you?"

"I am the sin of avarice," Greed answered, his lips curling into a pleased smirk, "But you knew that, too."

"Of course," Ran Fan demurred, sliding her hands up his shoulders and raising her face to his. He drew back, and she grinned widely. "You said it yourself, Greed," she reminded him, "You are the sin of avarice. So," she paused and pressed herself closer, "Why don't you take?"

Greed grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed his lips against hers, and heard Ran Fan/Envy's delight sigh in response. He deepened the kiss, and then pulled back, and Envy's face was once again that of his favorite form. "Well?" Greed demanded, "What did that prove, exactly?"

Envy took a playful jump backwards and frowned at him. "You always took, or tried to take, what you wanted, Greed. The secret of immortality, Wrath's life, the memories of your friends…. You were always ruled by your desires, whatever they happened to be. What changed? Don't tell me you want to stay here; that you prefer this place to Amestris."

"What does it matter?"

Envy shrugged. "It doesn't, not to me. I'm just confused. Tell me, Greed, what do you fear in Amestris?"

He paused, seeming to wait for Greed's answer, which Greed refused to give. With a sigh, Envy continued, "Fine. What is here that is not in Amestris?"

"Internet?" Greed asked sarcastically, and was rewarded by Envy's narrowed gaze.

"Seriously," Envy encouraged, and then shifted guises, spinning around in Stacy's body. With a giggle, Stacy/Envy stared at Greed. "You can't have her, Greed, if that's what's keeping you back. We'll kill her when we find her, or turn her into the police, whichever suits Lust's fancy. She stabbed you in the back, man. Get over it." Envy shifted back and tilted his head, grinning at Greed.

Greed grinned back, and, with a rude gesture, exited the room. "I don't care about her, Envy," Greed called over his shoulder. She's nothing."

"Oh, he cares about me," Harleen told Dr. Isley as the latter shuffled papers on her desk. The blonde girl's legs swung around above the ground, and her hands were propped on the sides of her chair.

"How can you know that?" Pamela asked, absentmindedly brushing back a lock of her dark hair as she continued to sort through the papers littering her desk and drawers.

Harleen's mouth flickered up into a wild grin. "I've worked very hard on that one. I only saw him a few times… but I can tell. Its worked." Her blue eyes shone, and she tugged at the edge of her shirt, the diamond pattern warping as she pulled against the fabric.

"But does he still?" Pamela asked neutrally, and Harleen smiled again.

"Yes. And I liked him very much, too. He's so much fun, and he's completely adorable. Such a pretty thing. I'd absolutely loathe to break him into little bits. I want to keep him, even after I kill his family."

"That won't be easy," Pamela reasoned, looking up, and setting the papers, now organized into a neat stack, on the corner of her desk. The phone rang twice, and she picked it up, talking softly into it. Harleen watched patiently until she ended the call, and smiled apologetically at her friend.

"It could be," Harleen said quietly, "That depends if he'll move when I push him."

"How will you push him?" Pamela asked, "And, moreover, what do you need me for?" A knock on her door, she called "Come in."

A young woman with a pale complexion and light blue eyes entered, and said quickly, "The deputy mayor wants to arrange a meeting."

"How soon?" Pamela asked, intertwining her fingers and resting them against her desk.

"Um," the secretary hesitated and checked the papers in her hands, and then looked up, "Soon. He mentioned weekends wouldn't work."

"Make it a weekend, anyway. If he really wants to meet, he'll make it. And I want to see him sweat a little." With a dazzling smile, Pamela dismissed the woman, who carefully shut the door. Pamela turned back to Harleen, who resumed from where the conversation had left off.

"You, dearest Doctor Pamela Isley, are one of my favorite contacts, and one with a great deal of influence in the Gotham business and political world."

"Well," Pamela said easily, "That goes without saying."

"Perhaps. And you've had so much fun with the Riddler's games. Now I'm playing one of my own. I want my old boss, Talon, out of the picture. Don't hurt her, not yet, anyway. For now… simply… acquire… her. She's due for a new job, anyway. She'll accept if you ask."

"And then what?" Pamela asked.

"All in due time, dearest. For now… just bring her into your company. Watch her closely. I'll be watching the rest of them."


	3. Chapter 3

A.N. This one is very short, and I'll try and make the next one longer. What do you think Harleen's game is? XD

For the first time in many, many days, Lust was genuinely excited. Actually, she silently conceded, it was less of an excitement and more of a surprised relief. After her old, spineless boss had fired her, she had been out of work and terribly bored. Working, she supposed, had a few merits, least of which was the sensation of actually doing something.

She smirked, and reconsidered. It wasn't like she had been doing _nothing_… but Wayne, even as the slacker he pretended to be, did occasionally have work to do, whether it involved business meetings or donning a batsuit and fighting crime. Needless to say, she was fast growing weary of this lifestyle. Which was why Dr. Isley's request for a meeting to discuss a job in her company had been so very welcome.

Lust dressed and then entered the kitchen, which was, possibly for the first time since Envy had moved in, empty. She grabbed her cell phone and keys and exited, locking the door behind her. It wasn't so surprising, really. There pathetic 'secret project' was all either of them could think about, nowadays, and currently both of them, Envy included, were up at all hours, researching whatever they could about this world's relationship with alchemy.

The restaurant the doctor had reserved her a table at was dark and illuminated by a subtle, unseen source of light, and decorated tastefully, at least in Lust's opinion. The waitress stationed at the front led Lust to a medium sized table in a back room, and quietly told her to wait for the doctor, who she assured Lust was coming soon.

"May I get you anything to drink?" the waitress asked.

"Nothing now, thank you," Lust answered, and the waitress departed. Lust smoothed down her skirt and waited. It wasn't long before Dr. Isley arrived, smiling apologetically. Lust stared. She had heard of Pamela Isley, that was true, but she had never seen the woman in person. She was beautiful, and much younger then Lust had expected.

"Hello," Isley said, stretching out a hand that Lust shook, "Ms. Talon?" she asked. "Sorry I'm late. I was held up."

"Not a problem," Lust replied, "I just got here. And you must be Dr. Pamela Isley. I've heard a good deal about you," she added with a smile.

"Nothing too bad, I hope," Dr. Isley teased, before her face grew calm and serious, and she lay her hands against the table, leaning forward slightly. "Now Ms. Talon, down to business," she smiled softly, and continued when Lust made no attempts at interruption. "I've heard…" she paused, "You no longer work with Gotham's legal system."

It was not a question, and Lust felt her admiration of the doctor increased substantially. Her quiet confidence and charm were both intriguing, and Lust found herself committed to taking any job this woman desired of her.

"So," Dr. Isley was saying, "I've looked at your performance during your stay in the legal system, and I must say, it's very impressive. As it so happens, one of our lawyer's was in this terrible accident, and we now have a job opening."

Lust waited.

"If you want it, it's yours," Dr. Isley finished, smiling politely. Lust refrained from grinning, but only just.

Greed entered Wayne's spacious cave, unaware he had a tail. His follower was patient, though, and utterly determined to keep her whereabouts unknown, and so he never did. Not even as he left the cave, when it was far after sunset.

And then she entered. She kept to the dark and shadowed places, for any that could see her would happily kill her, and, inasmuch as she could, hidden as she was, she explored.

It wasn't long until she stumbled upon the supposed secret of the homunculi, a secret they had protected with very little diligence. She knew the symbol from Copper's gloves, and as she read the notes carelessly scattered on a table beside the painted circle, she figured out what, exactly, the homunculi wanted to do.

But she would not let them succeed. She scanned the contents of the notes a second time, and grinned, a large smile which flashed most of her teeth. She gently placed the paper on the ground, the same spot she had found it in, and stood. She would go into their world first, and if what Copper had said could be believed, she would find exactly what she was looking for there. Harleen Quinzel narrowed her eyes, and knelt, tracing the jagged edge of the paint. From what both the notes and Copper had told her, there was only one more step to breaking into another reality. Human sacrifice. She smiled again.


	4. Chapter 4

There was screaming, and the sound of it was music to her ears. Harleen Quinzel dropped her hands to her sides and stared in triumph at the scene in front of her.

The lingering echoes of agony bounced from wall to wall, and she felt her heart beat quicken in response. Ordinarily the shouts of pain had no effect on her, in her time working for the Riddler she had grown used to the noise, and learned how to drown in out. But today… today those screams represented her accomplishment, and for that reason, she relished them. She savored the distant memory of them, and breathed in and out, steadily and evenly. Her mouth quirked into a smile, and she gave a short laugh.

Mason Copper had taken a liking to her, and she had used that; shamelessly and gleefully. Thanks to him, she knew enough about his world to get by, and enough about alchemy to utilize that to her advantage. Admittedly, her alchemic skills were actually very limited. She didn't know enough about it to use it as a weapon, or even a tool, but she figured she knew enough to accomplish her goal.

Mason Copper's naturally loose tongue, combined with his cute crush on her and a mild tranquilizer slipped into his drink had allowed her to find out precisely how to create a red stone, and from there, enter into his world.

Except for one tiny, if aggravating problem. Mason Copper didn't know the exact method. And he had been either lazy enough or impatient enough to try and force the homunculi to assist him, instead of going for the obvious solution, as Harleen had done.

It was quite simple, actually. Trial and error. Sure, it had taken a few months, and sure, it had taken a lot of effort, but the result was a glittering crimson stone situated in the center of the alchemic circle drawn onto the floor. She grinned again, and stepped forward, gingerly crossing over the painted line. She danced towards the center and gently picked up the stone, enjoying the feel of its weight against her palm, and the heart of the souls from the sacrifices inside it. Harleen pocketed the red stone, and whispered to herself, "part one, complete." She smiled again.

Greed was in no mood for smiling. He stalked the night-darkened streets of Gotham, his pace clipped and angry. Something cold clawed inside him, an emotion that sat right on the edge of jealousy, though the very notion seemed, to him, utterly ridiculous.

Why was he jealous? Wasn't that Envy's field? Envy. Greed ground his teeth, thinking back on the morning. The Scarecrow, the murderer Envy was so fond of had returned from his little trip, and Greed shuddered to imagine what they were doing at the moment, in much the same way he shudder to think what it was Lust and Wayne were probably doing now, as well.

And there it was again. The sin his envious sibling was guilty of, and the emotion that had been knotting and twisting at his guts for hours. Jealousy. He tried to pinpoint its source, and sighed in dismay, as he found what probably should have been apparent to him hours ago.

He was jealous of his siblings. Of their relationships, of whatever they were most likely doing right now. This conclusion only served to annoy Greed. Envy was a sadist, Greed knew, and lusted after men and women with the same cruelty that he did. Lust in particular liked strength and willpower. Although it pained her to admit it, she had desired Mustang for those traits, just as much as she desired Batman for them now.

And Greed… right now he wanted Stacy. He missed her, and it seemed to physically hurt him to hear Envy tell Greed all the ways he planned on killing her, though Greed knew it probably should not bother him. She had betrayed him… but still he felt he bore little anger towards her. And there it was again, jealousy.

Greed swore.

Lust was bored. As much as she enjoyed watching Batman beat up random criminals (and she did like that very much) she wanted to do something more then sit idly on the sidelines. Honestly, it didn't suit her, and Batman knew it to, but he had a very silly policy that revolved around him not murdering anyone. And, since her main ability lay in murder, most of the time she had been confined to the role of a spectator.

Occasionally she'd help out, flick out a spear and stab it into a leg, or arm holding a gun, but for the most part she found herself lounging against the alley wall, trying to avoid getting hit by bullets. She half-wished one of the criminals would knock Batman unconscious, then she'd be able to really hurt them, and the Batman wouldn't be there to lecture her. Of course, he'd probably do it later. She let out a groan.

In truth, her boredom wasn't limited to just her current predicament. No, the Batman himself was boring her.

She half-regretted that the disguise Batman wore during the day was mostly fake; at least the Bruce Wayne guise he wore in public was fun. Batman was being to irritate her. And she felt almost guilty thinking it. Almost, but not quite.

Oh, she wouldn't deny being with him had its good points, he was handsome and strong, and committed to the things he did. Lust licked her lips, considering. But, his constant angst and seriousness was beginning to tire her, and as she watched the Batman finish off the last man and approach her, she stood and stepped into his embrace, wondering what precisely she needed to do.

Doctor Pamela Isely did not enjoy working for Harleen. They were friends, that she did not deny, but she considering their business relationship to be a poor one. It had started with the Riddler. She hadn't liked the Riddler much at all; she had found his personality appalling and his crimes unnecessary. The murder of that boy- pointless. No, the Riddler had been an awful man, and she was glad the homunculi had ended him.

But, the Riddler had done one important thing for her, and for that, she was grudgingly grateful. There had been an incident a few years back, one that involved murder, and poison. The police had seemed oh-so-close to solving the murder, but the Riddler had solved it first. He had come to her, and offered to make her problems disappear, and in exchange she would supply her services and contacts to his criminal empire when the need arose. She had agreed, and now his second in command, Harleen Quinzel, was using those services. Frankly, it was highly annoying.

But, she conceded to herself, this new assignment wasn't so bad, even though it occasionally grated on her nerves.

"You're bleeding," Lust informed him as he peeled off his mask. Her eyes flashed, and her red lips curved into a seductive smile as she brushed the wound.

"It's nothing," he said sharply, and then softened his voice, "I'm fine," he told her.

"Hm," she nodded, not looking convinced. "Is that from a bullet then, or a knife?"

Batman hesitated, "It was a bullet," he admitted.

"Close then," Lust purred, "Very, very close." She smiled again, and backed up, falling down onto the bed and reclining on the dark sheets, her hair blending in with the fabric, and her eyes glowing bright and purple. She closed her eyes, and continued to smile as Batman walked towards her and sat down beside her.

He bent down and in between kisses she said, "Your unwillingness to kill leaves you more vulnerable."

He pulled away, and stared at her. "Maybe," he said slowly, "But I don't have a choice. There's a line that should not be crossed. Not by me, not by you."

She frowned slightly, and opened her eyes, sitting up and pressing her hand against his shoulder. "Consider what it is you are risking," she pleaded, tightening her grip, "Understand that sometimes mercy can get you killed."

Batman pulled her hand off and stood. "I have considered," he told her, "I do understand."

"Do you?" she asked softly, standing herself and crossing the room. Her hand rested against the doorknob. "Sometimes I wonder." She twisted it, and opened the door.

"Wait," Wayne called over to her, "Stay here."

Lust paused, and then with a grin closed the door and stepped forward, slipping out of her dress and pushing Wayne against the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Per Harleen's strict instructions, Pamela Isely added a tea bag into the heated water, and then carefully poured in a mild sedative, one she was unfamiliar with, but that Harleen assured her would work perfectly. Pamela watched as the clear liquid dissolved into the water, and stirred the tea absentmindedly. She picked up the pill Harleen had sent her along with the sedative, and swallowed the encapsulated antidote, soothing its journey down her throat with a quick sip from a nearby water bottle.

Harleen's plan was coming into play, and swifter then Pamela would have preferred, but she didn't particularly care, as long as it didn't backfire onto her. She removed the tea bag and threw it away, grabbing two cups with one hand, and holding the kettle in her other.

She swept down the halls of the office, and approached the Talon's door, tapping against it with her foot. There was a short pause, and the door opened to reveal Harleen's current target.

Pamela placed a sincere smile over her lips and asked "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Talon answered, stepping aside and shutting the door behind her. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you have time for tea?" Pamela asked innocently, taking a seat in the chair in front of the desk. Talon nodded, and took a seat herself, her eyes narrowed in confusion as she brushed the papers and files off her desk.

She was growing suspicious, Pamela noted, just as Harleen as told her she would. She poured the tea and offered a cup to Talon, taking a drink from the other herself. After a moment's hesitation, Talon took a sip.

"Do you do this for all your new employees?" Talon asked, lowering the cup briefly before taking another sip. Her violet eyes dilated and her grip on the cup slackened, a sign that the sedative was working. She took a long gulp of the tea, and blinked rapidly.

"Only the interesting ones," Pamela assured her, watching closely as Talon let the cup touch the desk. Her pale hands fell away, and her eyes half-shut.

"How are you feeling?" Pamela asked, leaning forward slightly in her chair.

"Tired," Talon answered blankly, her eyes slipping closed.

"Good," Pamela cooed, "Now, tell me about the woman you knew as 'Stacy'."

"She worked with me," Talon responded, her words devoid of emotion, her face smooth and her muscles relaxed, "And then she betrayed me and my siblings to the Riddler."

"Tell me about these siblings," Pamela instructed. "Tell me about… Ling."

Talon seemed to frown. "Ling? Do you mean Greed?"

Pamela's gaze intensified, "Yes," she said, "Tell me about 'Greed'."

Harleen scowled, and sat down heavily, laying herself on the ground. "Did you find out what I wanted you too?" she asked.

"I suppose I did," Pamela's voice said, sounding as close to angry as it ever did. Harleen's grip on the phone tightened.

"What does that mean?" she demanded, "Just tell me where she said Ling is. I checked the apartment, and that ridiculous cave they often stay in."

"Are you sure you don't mean Greed?" Pamela asked, and Harleen's expression twisted into one of bafflement.

"What?"

"Don't play innocent, Harleen," Pamela said coldly, "It doesn't suit. Talon told me some very interesting things about them- about the _homunculus_ and their world. I hope you don't honestly expect me to believe that this is new to you?" Her words, brisk and clipped hung in the air, and Harleen sighed loudly.

"It's irrelevant," she said, "This has nothing to do with you. Just tell me where Ling is, and you can consider your work on this job over."

Pamela was silent for a minute, and then she said in a different, neutral tone, "Talon said he's at Bruce Wayne's penthouse. She sent him there to find someone called Envy."

"Excellent!" Harleen Quinzel complimented, and then hung up the phone. She sat up and grinned.

She found him outside the building that housed Wayne's penthouse, and from what she could see, he was just leaving. Quietly she approached behind him, and then when he was close enough to touch, she tapped him on the back.

He whirled around, and the look on his face was so enormously funny that she burst out laughing. "Miss me?" she asked, and jumped forward, stabbing him in the neck with the tranquilizer she held in her hand. His purple eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the ground.

Greed's eyes opened, and when his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw Stacy sitting on the floor in front of him. With a yelp, he flung himself backwards, and barely managed to keep from smashing against the ground. "What is this?" he asked her.

She picked herself up, her eye's cool and appraising. "An offer," she said simply, opening her hands to reveal a shockingly red stone. Greed gaped in astonishment as he belatedly recognized what it was, those beautiful, jagged edges, that crimson sheen.

"A philosopher's stone," he breathed, reaching for it instinctively. Stacy snatched it back.

"Not yet," she grinned, tossing it playfully from hand to hand. She threw it into the air and caught it between two fingers, leaving it in that position, and letting him admire the way it sparkled and glinted in the light.

"How did you make it?" Greed asked, finding his voice again.

"Alchemy," she said vaguely. "Anyway, Greed, I'd like to ask you something."

"What is it?" Greed managed, his throat suddenly hoarse.

She smiled. "Work with me. I like you, Greed, I really do. And your powers are simply amazing."

"Work with you doing what, exactly?"

"Guess."

"In your newly gained criminal empire?" he asked, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Something along those lines?"

"Something along those lines," she agreed, unaffected. "Except… I know you and your siblings plan on returning to Amestris. I can take you there. Just you, though. What do you say? I know you can't enjoy it here, I know you'd rather be a homunculi again then a human."

Greed waited.

"Here," she said, stretching out her hand and opening her palm to reveal the stone Greed so desired. "An incentive. I can make more, enough for both of us to travel into your world. What do you say?" she asked again.

Greed stayed quiet for a second, not moving. Finally he said, "Is your name really Stacy?"

She evaluated him, her eyes curious. "It's Harleen Quinzel," she told him. "Is yours Greed, or Ling?"

Greed locked gazes with her. "It's Greed," he said shortly, and reached out his hand. "I'll work with you," he told her. His hand hung in the air for a split second, then he lowered it, and picked up the stone.


	6. Chapter 6

There wasn't any room for regret, or guilt. There wasn't any empty space left for pain or sorrow to reside, just a previously empty chasm filled with a wonderful warmth. He gripped the stone, tightening his hold until his knuckles turned white. A hot energy radiated off it, and he held it even tighter, trying desperately to absorb all of the heat he could. He closed his eyes and allowed it to suffuse his body, and the stone complied, filling up the dark hole in his chest with red warmth, easing the craving that he hadn't even recognized he had been experiencing. It was much needed fuel, and he felt it as the warmth he had leeched off the stone shot through his veins and supplied him the power he had been missing for months.

But, he knew, it was only a small fraction of the power that could be his again. He opened his eyes and gingerly opened his palm, staring down at the rock, mesmerized by its glowing beauty. The red light emitting from its core danced through his eyes and he breathed out deeply, his mouth stretching into an automatic grin. He picked it up with his other hand and pressed its sharp point against his chest, imagining it inside him, as his core, pumping power and energy through his body, as it had before. His smile widened to almost painful proportions.

Greed turned to face Harleen, and the red reflected off her eyes. Her own stone was nowhere to be seen but undoubtedly somewhere on her person, and her smile was sly and cool. Her eyes narrowed, and pleasure flashed through them. "I was right," she murmured, as if to herself, then focused on Greed. "Am I?"

He frowned. Something in her tone seemed slightly off, and his good mood wavered, before she smiled again, sweet hunger taking over her features. He didn't answer, and she didn't ask again, and the stone distracted him, making him forget his discomfort and unease. Its warmth, and his desire to make it permanent consumed him, the avaricious sin that he was made from occupied all.

Lust awoke with a dry throat and the strangest sensation- one akin to embarrassment, with a touch of anger, all soothed by artificial contentment. She blinked rapidly, and stepped out of her seat, and her confusion on intensified. She wasn't where the belonged… she'd been somewhere else… somewhere different. Nausea abruptly swam through her, and with a gasp of bewildered pain, she doubled over, clutching her stomach. She coughed, unfamiliar sounds emerging from her mouth as the walls of her stomach and throat contracted. She didn't vomit, but felt faint, and grabbed the edge of her desk for support. Taking a steadying breath, she carefully righted herself and stood, taking calming breaths in and out.

Apart from her fever after coming through from Amestris, she hadn't experienced any sickness or sensation such as this. She'd felt fatigue, of course, and exhaustion, but this was something separate entirely. Lust didn't enjoy it. But more over, she was suspicious of it. She thought back, recalling the events before she had fallen… asleep.

She'd risen from her desk to open the door and greet Dr. Isely. She'd accepted a cup of tea, and remembered its fresh aroma drifting around in the air. She'd taken a sip, and then…. Lust frowned. She'd taken a sip, and there must have been more, but Lust drew a blank. Her frown turned into an outright scowl, and a surge of fury made her tremble as she recognized what should have been apparent to her minutes ago. Pamela Isely was another traitor. It disappointed her, and she felt a twinge of regret as she remembered the woman's beautiful dark skin and her sensual grace. It would not hinder her. Unlike her lover, she had no moral code prohibiting her from cold blooded murder. Her spears elongated, and she drew them back, not allowing her emotions to get in her way. Practicality must come first.

She checked her pulse, and was gratified to notice it was even and steady. But she had no idea what Isely had used, and that was not advisable. She needed to find out, immediately. She sighed, realizing that her best option was the Batman. Lust would have almost preferred to use Dr. Crane, but seeing as he was still gone on his little trip, that was unfortunately out of the question. She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothed down her skirt. With a groan, she walked forward, making her way out of the office building.

Once outside she increased her pace to a quick walk, taking a taxi up to Wayne's penthouse, hoping he was there. He wasn't. But once the butler let her inside she convinced him to allow her to stay, disapproving though he clearly was. She took a seat, relaxing against the back of a beige sofa. It wasn't long before Wayne arrived.

He wasn't even surprised by her, draped across his furniture. She smiled, her lips curving into a cold grin. "Hello," she said, and he walked forward, taking a seat beside her. She pulled herself against him, throwing her legs over his.

"What is this?" he asked, absentmindedly stroking the edge of her skirt.

Her smile hesitated, and she momentarily considered waiting to tell him what she had come here to tell him. She dismissed it, and licked her lips, smiling again. "I've been poisoned," she said without a change in expression.

Wayne's eyes widened briefly, and he searched her face, perhaps wondering how serious she was being. Something in her gaze seemed to convince him of her honesty, and he stood up, grabbing her wrists and feeling for her pulse.

"Perhaps 'poisoned' was the wrong word," Lust mused, licking her lips again. She stood and leaned towards Wayne playfully.

But he seemed to be all business. "Do you know who did this?" he asked her.

"Pamela Isely," she told him, "she put something in my tea. I need you to find out what it was."

He nodded. "If I can take some of your blood, I can send it over to Fox. He'll be able to see what it was."

"That's good," Lust murmured. First the blood work. Then murder.

Approximately an hour later, Bruce got off the phone with Fox. There was an obvious relief in him, and he smiled at her. "It's nothing," he said, "A mild sedative, although Fox did say that these particular ingredients are relatively rare. It seems to only have been designed as a type of… truth serum."

Lust leaped to her feet, her features a mix of furious alarm and dark anger. Wayne grabbed her shoulders.

"Calm down," he urged, "Anger isn't going to accomplish anything now."

His advice seemed sound, and Lust obeyed, sucking in a gulp of air and briefly closing her eyes. Opening them, she tried to get her temper under control. Mostly succeeding, she held his gaze. "What did I tell her?" she asked.

Wayne shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said, "Nobody would believe things like homunculi and alchemy without proof."

She nodded quickly, pretending to ease. "Alright," she conceded, "Yes, it is rather far-fetched. I'm going to go back to my apartment now."

She thought she noticed a flare of suspicion in Wayne's eyes, but he only said, "Fine." She resisted the urge to grin, and turned quickly before her lips could betray her intent. He said nothing as she left.

Inside the office building, she asked the secretary where she could find Dr. Isely. The girl was only too happy to oblige, pointing her towards Pamela's office. Lust walked down the halls, her shoe's clicking as she approached Pamela's door. It wasn't locked. She entered, and saw Pamela look up from a mound of paperwork at her desk. There was only pleasant curiosity on her face, and she opened to mouth, perhaps to ask her what she wanted.

Lust didn't care for any games. She shut the door and locked it, and the second to bafflement on Pamela's face transformed into a knowing fear, she lashed out with a spear, clipping the woman on the arm. The lack of surprise on the woman's face only strengthened Lust's resolve, and another spear shot forward, tapping the woman lightly on the chest.

"Stand up," Lust ordered, and Pamela complied, the pain on her face giving way to a practiced neutrality.

"What do you want?" Isely asked her, her voice emotionless and measured.

"I want you to tell me why you slipped a sedative into my drink," Lust said with equal impassivity.

Isely's expression revealing nothing. "How did you know?" she asked after a while.

Lust only smiled coolly. "What did you find out?"

"I won't tell you that."

Still smiling, Lust flicked out a spear and prepared to slice into the woman's skin. The door behind her smashed open, and from it came a figure dressed in darkness. The shadows spilled into the room, and Lust felt her arm knocked away as the Batman surged forward and took Isely by the arms, throwing her against the wall.

"Tell me who you're working for!" the Batman demanded, his voice harsh and full of contained rage. She watched him, a similar rage simmering in her as she realized that the Batman's trust in her was practically nonexistent. He must have followed her here, guessing exactly what it was she meant to do. She'd have to work better on her poker face. Months as a human had made her lazy.

Stunned, Pamela's calm mask broken, she choked out, "Harleen. Harleen Quinzel."

"Who?" the Batman growled, raising his voice, "What does she want?"

"Stacy!" Pamela gasped out, "She called herself Stacy, before, with Jayd."

"What does she want?" Batman repeated, a dangerous edge hardening his tone.

"Greed," the woman murmured, "She wants… Ling. She's obsessed with him. And power. She wants more of it then the Riddler did."

Seemingly satisfied, the Batman released her, to exit the office. Isely slumped down on the wall.

"What are you going to do with her?" Lust shouted after him.

"Nothing," he growled.

Lust turned back to Pamela. "Then I will." Her spears elongated and she flicked it out, intending to kill the woman.

"No!" The Batman shoved her, and she missed Isely completely, grazing the wall instead. Batman grabbed her holding her in place.

"Stop this!" Lust snarled, "I'm going to do what you should do!"

"No!" the Batman said, his grip on her becoming almost painful. "Don't let yourself become a murderer."

"I _am_ a murderer," Lust informed him, trying to wriggle out of his restraining grip.

"Don't be," he told her, more softly, his lips against her ear.

Pamela Isely rose from the ground, "I won't tell anyone," she said, "my contract with Harleen is up. I don't care for these plots and schemes, and my loyalty to her is over."

"Don't do it," Batman urged, and finally Lust relaxed, her spears drawing back in.

"Fine," she hissed, pushing him away. "But only this once."


	7. Chapter 7

Envy reflected back on the conversation that had led him to this particular warehouse. It had been Lust's idea, hers and Batman's, and although he had been reluctant to do anything a man dressed as a bat came up with, he had nevertheless agreed. He took a deep breath of air, stepping in front of the door, reaching out for the knob.

He sighed, smoothing back his hair, contorting his face, now identical to Greed's, into the sarcastic grin that he knew Greed favored. He slouched, adopting Greed's laid-back posture, and yanked open the door, walking with faked confidence inside.

The goal, he reminded himself, was to first find Harleen. She was his enemy, and his priority. Afterwards, if he was feeling generous, perhaps he could search for his annoying brother.

Suddenly, he found himself whipped around, and before he could make a defensive move, he felt the cold tip of a gun pressed to his chest.

"Bang."

He pulled back, and instinctively felt his chest, checking for injuries, though he knew he'd find none. As his heart began to settle down, he looked up accusingly, Harleen's eyes on his.

"Scared you!" she laughed, slinging an arm around his shoulders, and then kissing him quickly on the lips. She pulled back, frowned, and then kissed him again, and as Envy responded, he felt the hard edge of her gun pressing against his side. She drew back again, and smiled.

"It'll be so much fun!" she said. "I have everything set up. We're ready."

"Ready," Envy repeated, "Of course."

She eyed him. "I have the stone. Obviously we can use mine and not yours, if that's what you're worried about."

"Not at all," Envy said, attempting to conceal his confusion. "Feel free."

Harleen's frown deepened. "You're acting very odd," she complained, "Silly. What is it? Don't you want to go back to Amestris, too?"

"Amestris?" Envy asked, and in an instant, a lifetime of deception and lies forgotten in that brief, shocked moment. It was only a moment, a small, small, moment, but Harleen drew back, her face hardening with realization.

The first shot was accompanied with smoke and noise. There was a brief, curious second in which Envy briefly had time to compute that _her gun had gone off her gun had gone off_ and then, as he felt the stickiness rushing down his leg, there was another short pause, followed closely by a searing, awful pain that _just wouldn't go away_. Choking back a furious sob, Envy clamped a hand down on his knee, the blood turning his fingers scarlet. He fell to the ground, crumpling over and gasping at the motion sent shock waves of agony through his body.

"That was a warning," Harleen said coldly, lowering the gun, its point drifting to the floor. She grinned at him, and squatted down, her cool blue eyes meeting his homunculus ones. She licked her lips and tilted her head to the side, considering. "Envy," she breathed, letting the name/word twist around in her mouth as if to see how it tasted. She smiled again, pleased. "What are you envious of, Envy?" she asked, her voice abruptly friendly, a short giggle ending the question.

He stared at her in horror, his eyes watering and hands trembling, fingers slick with blood. He knew what to do, what he should do, knew that he should use this face, Greed's face, and beg for mercy with his tongue, and if she hesitated… then, then he could act, but the pain was to great, overwhelming all his senses.

"Never mind," she said, standing up and smiling again. For a second, the oddness of her smile, sweet and sincere and empty all at once, momentarily distracted Envy from his pain, and he found himself amazed at how mismatched it was with the chilling, icy blankness that lay in her eyes as she stared down at him red with blood and overflowing with pain and fear.

And worse, he recognized that smile. That expression. That _look_. It was one he himself had worn many, many times. And with a flash of panic and dawning comprehension, he immediately realized her endgame, understood she would offer him no kindness or mercy.

She would kill him, and it would come as quickly and easily as her smile, still worn across her lips.

She hesitated, and then said, "Show it to me."

"What?" Envy hissed out, his voice so faint and broken with pain he barely recognized it.

"You're true form," she demanded, "Show it to me. Or I'll kill you right now."

Envy grinned at her, still cradling his legs in his hands. "You'll kill me anyway."

She examined him, her light hair glinting against the bright glow of the light bulbs overhead. "Yes," she agreed dispassionately, and then frowned, her expression one of almost childish petulance. "But show it to me. I want to see it."

"No," growled Envy, tensing as he waited for another shot.

But there was only silence, and a tense stillness that seemed to dominate the room. And then Harleen raised the gun again, her smile stretching across her lips, full to the brim with emotion, and cold with a vast emptiness. She raised the gun.

"Bang," she hissed. She pulled the trigger.

Harleen grinned as the shapeshifters body went limp, his face morphing into that of an androgynous youth. She shook her head with disappointment, she truly had wanted to see its real form, and then with a shrug turned on her heel and exited the room. She'd go and wait from the real Greed, and the imposter's corpse could rot here on this floor, for soon both she and Greed would be gone.

She waited patiently inside her circle made from blood, inside the triangle at its center, her stone clasped between her hands. She turned as she heard footsteps behind her, and her lips twisted into a smile as Greed entered the room. He seemed strangely unbalanced, but she could hardly fault him for that, she imagined it was quite exciting, and perhaps a tad unsettling, to be preparing to go back to a world you'd thought you'd never see again.

"You seem conflicted," she teased, touching his arm lightly.

"I am," he murmured. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, a fleeting grin that she thought appeared forced.

She clapped her hands and the stone glowed like a crimson sliver of a rainbow exploding into the air, then floor opening up as a huge eye seemed to consume the circle. She took a step forward, her feet beginning to disintegrate, the stone's light making everything red, the Emerald city, but without the green. She turned, waiting for Greed to join her, but he was walking away, shaking his head as he did so, regret clear in his eyes.

"You killed Envy," he said softly, "This is too much. I'm so sorry, Harleen."

"No!" Harleen shouted, her eyes wide with fear as she stretched herself away from the light, towards Greed. "Greed!" she screamed, "No, Greed. Gre-" And then, with a giant implosion of color and sound, the gate crashed shut, pulling Harleen inside it.

Blinking furiously as the spots cleared from his eyes, Greed found himself standing in front of the empty space where Harleen had reached towards him only seconds ago. And with a scream of rage and sadness and avarice unfulfilled, he turned away and cried out again and again.

_Harleen knew she wasn't where she was supposed to be. She was supposed to be in Amestris, and Amestris, as Greed had told her, was full of houses and people with limbs made from steel. Instead… instead she found herself wading in a vast pool of blood. Scattered around her, protruding from the blood were skeletons, bleached white and grinning up at her, faces stripped of skin and muscle. She howled in anger, her confusion shaping her next words. "Where am I?" she asked nothing in particular, searching for the boundaries of the pool and finding none. "Where am I?" she asked again, softly. _

_She began to walk, and did not stop for many hours, though each minute dragged on, and by the time she stopped for rest she felt she had been walking for days. She lay down in the blood, the thick scent of it not troubling her, its sticky warmth feeling like a gentle embrace. She smiled, her fingers playing in the blood, splash splash splash. She let her fingers slide down under the surface of the blood, but the splashing continued, growing louder with each repetition._

_She bolted up, and looked around, her eyes catching sight of a figure rapidly approaching. Relief made her temporarily limp with joy, and she ran forward to greet the figure._

_It was a man, she noticed, long black hair tied up in a ponytail, dressed in a suit ruined by the blood splashed over it. He carried a flickering lantern, and upon reaching her paused, and then placed it on the blood, the glow of the flame illuminating the blood and casting ruby shadows on the man's face. He smiled._

"_Hello," he said politely, "I haven't seen you before. May I ask how you came to arrive here?"_

"_What is this place?" Harleen asked, "It's not Amestris, is it?"_

"_Of course not," the man replied, his eyes narrowing as he watched her quizzically. _

"_Where is it, then?"_

"_It's between here and there, I suppose," the man answered thoughtfully, "A broken portal."_

"_How did _you_ get here, then?" Harleen asked the man. "Are you an alchemist?"_

"_Yes," he replied, "At your service. My name is Kimblee."_

"_Harleen Quinzel," she responded warily. "How did you come here?" she repeated._

"_Irrelevant," he dismissed with a wave of his hand, and then smiled at her. "Well, I can't refuse a lady's request, now can I? I had remained whole, unlike the rest of the souls inside him. When Pride's stone was destroyed by Edward Elric, I was transported here, to the place that I previously had assumed could only be accessed by Gluttony. And you?"_

"_Pride? Gluttony? Are they homunculus'?" Harleen asked._

_Kimblee's gaze sharpened. "I won't ask you how you know about homunculi," he began._

"_Good," Harleen snapped, "Don't."_

_He laughed._

"_How do we get out?" she asked. "Do you know a way?"_

_He nodded. "Yes. I've found what appears to be an alchemic site. I believe I know how to escape."_

_Harleen grinned, sighing in relief once again. _

"_But," he said mildly, holding up his finger, "There's a bit of a problem."_

"_Yes," she asked, "What's the problem?"_

"_To open the gate and go through would require a sacrifice."_

"_What kind of sacrifice?"_

"_That depends on the person, I suppose. Organs and flesh and guts and blood. Arms and legs and eyes. Except I seem to be unable to sacrifice anything, seeing as I was previously… devoured. I have nothing to sacrifice." He looked at her, and as his polite smile returned, Harleen thought she had never seen anything more menacing in her life. "Until now." _


	8. Chapter 8

A.N. Yes, Envy is genderless in this story, as he was in the manga.

For what seemed an eternity of time he was immersed in darkness, surrounded by its soft colorless warmth. There was only the black, all around him, a realm devoid of emotion and thought, a dream-state of utter contentment. If he had had eyes, they would have done him no good, for the world that encompassed him was one without light, and the darkness was total.

He didn't mind. He was about to sleep, for he was very tired, and the darkness seemed very comfortable. And in this place, this wasteland of sensation, seemed to him a luxurious bed and he relaxed, his only desire never to wake.

But the darkness was being invaded, the blackness torn open by a slash of color. It felt wrong, distorted, he was in a place to deep for color to penetrate, but the color was only growing, and it was _red_.

The recognition startled him, and in the split second (or perhaps it was thousands of seconds) the crimson was _everywhere_, inside him, around him, sending shockwaves of pain through his flesh as his eyes shot open without his volition, his spine contorting as he tried desperately to escape the agony, but it was _inside _him, its familiar fingers in his heart, his arms, his legs.

It was poison in his veins, and the scream that escaped his lips was one of both rage and pain as he felt the ouroboros brand itself to his thigh, and his bloody chest knit back together. His skin bubbled, the veins underneath bulging as he cried out again and again, his body twisting and bones snapping and healing in a cycle of anguish as he writhed on the ground.

_Envy._

He was Envy again, truly Envy, in more than just name.

_Jealousy. _

He felt his system flooded with the sin as the red took from him the only thing that had made this world worthwhile for him, as he continued to scream, a dark stirring of vicious emotions and malice simmering in his blood as his heart burst, dissolving, the stone taking its place, beating in place of the human organ that he had yearned for since the day of his birth. The pain receded, transforming into a dull agony, and then fading away, his pupils snapping open as he gasped, pushing himself off the floor and searching for someone to blame for this punishment.

Greed reclined against the warehouse door, a lazy smirk tilting up the corners of his mouth, and Envy growled. He should have known Greed was behind this somehow, in the end, it was always _Greed_.

"What did you do?" Envy snarled, crossing the floor and smashing Greed against the wall, grinning in cold satisfaction as Greed's smug features contorted in pain.

"I did you a favor!" Greed shouted, pushing Envy away, automatically raising his shield over his torso.

"Did you?" Envy laughed, then shouted furiously, "You idiot! What did I do to you, huh?"

"What's your problem?" Greed asked, frowning warily, his hands rising in a placating gesture.

Envy giggled, his grin spreading across his face as he shifted into Lust's form, and then Greed's. "You're dead," he told the other, "I'll give you a choice- short and messy, or long and clean. Better pick quickly, you know how impatient I am." His arms lengthened into blade-like appendages, and he let the scrap across the floor.

"Try," Greed encouraged, his shield spreading across his whole body, his voice morphing as his face shifted. He made an expression that vaguely resembled a smile, and added, "You have a funny way of showing gratitude. You think I wanted to use that stone on _you_? Of course not. But you were about to die, so I figured why not do something nice?" He smiled again as Envy stared, "Of course, if I had known how ungrateful you were going to be, I never would have bothered."

Envy's form changed as he gaped at Greed, processing his words. _Saved his life_…. And with that thought he suddenly remembered a girl with hollow eyes as cold as ice, and an innocent smile. He rubbed his chest, the memory of the bullet tearing into his skin flashing through his mind.

Greed was still talking, oblivious, "I wanted that stone for myself, you know. And for a moment there I was worried your body was going to reject it. That would have been a waste. I don't think I would have forgiven myself if that happened. I should have made Harleen tell me how to make the stone, then I could have forced Crane or Wayne or someone else to make more."

"Shut up," Envy snapped, narrowing his eyes, "I've decided to be generous. I won't kill you."

"How kind," Greed drawled, letting his shield drop. "A thank you would really make up for the death threats, though."

The new/old darkness inside of Envy roared in displeasure, urging him to do awful, terrible things to the former homunculus in front of him _the one that stole that which he envied_. "You shouldn't say anything else," Envy advised mildly, and to spite him, turned into the girl that had tried to kill him, watching as Greed's expression darkened into one of anger.

"What happened to her anyway?" Envy threw over his/her shoulder, making her way to the door. "Is she dead?" With a burst of cruel laughter, she flung open the door, closing her eyes as the fresh air brushed her hair back from her face.

Greed ignored her, stalking past and into the street.

Envy laughed, skipping to keep up, "Tell me," she warned, "Or I'll gut you and spill your insides over the street. Don't test me, Mister, I'm feeling rather… disinclined towards you. Is she dead or is she still breathing?" she repeated.

"Dead," Greed said coolly, facing Envy, his own grin, one of hard wrath appearing over his face as he continued down the sidewalk. "Or not. I don't know. Maybe she's been eaten up, maybe she's in Amestris."

Envy pouted. "I wanted to see her suffer," she whined, "Lust isn't going to be happy, you know how much she likes her enemies to bleed before they die." She shifted back to her favorite form, and added under his breath, "As do I."

"Sorry to disappoint," Greed replied, sarcasm dripping from his every syllable.

They walked the rest of the way in a tense silence, and as predicted, Lust's lips tightened with annoyance as Greed recited the part of the story with the mystery ending.

"She's gone though," she urged, and Greed shrugged.

"Probably," he said, and Lust scowled.

"Probably," she repeated, and then turned to Envy. "It's excellent to see you still alive," she said, and Envy was forced to remember that both she and Greed were human now, and the rest of her words were drowned out with the ringing in his ears as his body ached with jealousy and resentment, craving the humanity and beating hearts that were there's now, and his no longer, his greatest desire given to him and then taken away in quick succession, his stone heart racing with envy.


	9. Chapter 9

Greed wasn't normally jealous. It wasn't in his nature to envy, if he saw something he wanted, he merely took it. Anything else he would have considered… pointless. He had never understood Envy, never understood what motivated his anger and bitter sadism. For Greed, everything in the world could be divided into two categories: the things he had, and the things he didn't. It was his goal for there to be only one category. It was an emotionless desire, more of an urge than anything else, uncontaminated with malice or resentment. He did know, however, how dark Envy's heart could become, how his unfulfilled envy would manifest itself in cruelties and rages, but to Greed these things, these displays, were simply… wasteful. Irrelevant. He had never truly felt envy before. Until now.

Having the thing he craved above all else in front of him, beating in Envy's ungrateful chest, suffusing him the immortality and power Greed _needed_, lusted after, was nearly unbearable. He half wanted to rip it from Envy, to shove it into his own chest, and hope for the best. His blood boiled with avarice, and his head was constantly filled with images and fantasies of him doing exactly that. But he couldn't, and that simple fact made his blood stagnant, and the greed shifted into something else, something bitter and dark… something like hatred, and for the first time in his life, Greed thought he knew jealousy, and it was a cruel lover.

"I shouldn't have given it to him," Greed complained one day, and Lust had looked at him, her stare refreshingly devoid of emotion.

"Really?" she asked. "You saved his life."

"He doesn't want this life," Greed said angrily, "He'd rather die." His eyes widened. "I could have taken the stone for myself! I would have had everything! And he would have had what he wanted all along, death as a human. Pathetic. I want what he has," he confessed to her, "I hate him for it."

Lust licked her lips, and then said thoughtfully, "I don't think Envy would have wanted to die. You did the right thing, Greed. Take some pleasure in that fact."

"I can't," he growled between clenched teeth, "I want it. He has it. There's nothing else to it."

"Do you think I enjoy being human?" Lust asked mildly, "Of course not. This body is fragile and weak, and it will eventually succumb to age and disease. But it does no good to worry over the impossible, to want for things that will never be ours. Your form is young, Greed. You could have much in this realm if you wished."

He glared at her.

She smiled, scarlet lips taunting him. "I'd encourage you to prioritize," she suggested softly, and then leaned down, her mouth to his ear, her scent overwhelming him as she continued, "For if you do not, you really could lose everything. Better to have something, wouldn't you agree?" She pulled away and turned, moving swiftly toward the door. She opened it, and quickly turned, a tiny smile darting over her features. "Of course you do," she said, and then left, the door snapping shut in her wake.

He had been waiting for her for approximately five minutes when she arrived. Not long, considering, but she was usually so obsessively punctual. He looked up at her, rising from the couch, noting nothing unusual as he greeted her with an embrace.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long," she told him, but there was nothing said on the reason, and he didn't ask.

"Not at all," he replied, and then led her out of the penthouse. The drive to the warehouse was uncomfortably silent, and he glanced at her, wondering, as he often did, what she was thinking.

It was hard to accurately say. Her face was always carefully blank and smooth, and today was no exception, though whether that was a conscious choice on her part, or merely habit, he could not tell. Her eyes were calculating, slightly narrowed and icy. She was lovely, dark hair against fair skin, and glowing purple eyes, but her coldness could be chilling, and her willingness to murder Isley still worried him.

The trip passed without a single word exchanged, and when they arrived at the warehouse he silently entered his code, the faint beep of acceptance the only noise. Like an animal's, her eyes glinted briefly in the dark before they descended, and a steady light illuminated the room.

He had mostly relocated to the cave below Wayne Manor, but as the building was not completely repaired, he still conducted some of his operations here. Most of the technology had been moved, and this room was mostly blank. For some strange reason, it felt rather lonely, and he resisted the odd urge to sigh.

"On the phone you never mentioned why you wanted to see me," Lust stated coolly, and he looked at her, surprised at her sudden decision to speak. She eyed him, and her reds lips appeared suddenly bloody, and he remembered how those lips had smiled as she had readied herself to kill Isley. Lust continued to examine him for another second, and then finished, "I was just wondering what the reason was."

"Of course," Wayne said, walking forward to a monitor screen in the center of the room, and turning it on. The screen showed what he had left on it, and a dozen newspaper clips and a short, grainy film of an explosion appeared.

Lust leaned forward. "What is this?" she frowned. "Let's see, 'An explosion at the mayor's office', 'second explosion near the Gate plaza', 'police suspect a serial arsonist is at work'," she read, and then asked again, more forcefully, "What is this?"

"I don't know," Wayne admitted, "But I was hoping you might provide me with some clue."

"Me?" she asked quizzically.

"Yes," he responded, replaying the video, and then pausing it, zooming in on the frozen image to a shot of a white-suited man beside an office building, the second before it burst into violent flames. He looked at Lust, watching as her eyes bulged and her mouth opened slightly. She was quick to compose herself, and was already shaking her head in denial as he asked his question. "Do you know who this is?"

"No," she said, as he had thought she might. "Why should I?"

He hesitated a moment before responding, and she caught the pause, suspicion flaring in her eyes. "The police are, quite frankly, stumped. They have no leads, and, this is most unusual, at all of the explosion sights in question, nothing was found that might have caused it. No powder, no compounds, in short, no evidence."

"And you think alchemy might be responsible," she concluded.

"It seems to likeliest answer," he said.

She took a deep breath, and then released it. "Perhaps," she said unwillingly, "Perhaps not. I can, however, tell you that both Harleen and Copper are the only alchemists here that I'm aware of."

He didn't believe her, but if she wasn't going to be honest with him, he had no way to force the truth out of her. "Alright," he conceded, adding, "If you think of anything else, please, let me know."

"I will," she promised, and Wayne flicked the screen off, and they left it at that.

"I told him I didn't know anything," Lust explained to Envy and Greed, "But he doesn't believe it. He's so transparent when he suspects me. I'm sick of all this distrust, but I had to tell you both before I made the decision to tell him anything."

"Are you going to?" Envy asked her, crossing his legs and frowning.

"I don't know yet," she said, "It might be useful."

"Do you even know it's him?" Greed interrupted, "Kimblee is dead, right?"

"Aren't we?" she asked rhetorically, and then shrugged. "I can just tell you the facts, Greed. And what I saw. I can't positively identify him, but it fits. White suit, explosion with no known cause…. There's really not a whole lot of doubt."

"What does he want?" Envy asked, "Assuming he's here, of course. It seems like he's baiting us. Trying to get our attention. But if that's the case, how does he even know we're here?"

"Harleen," Greed said, "She must have contacted him… somehow. It's the only explanation that fits."

"I agree," Lust said. "But what now? How should we response, if, like you said, Envy, he's trying to get our attention?"

Envy sat back. "Sit still. Do nothing."

"And force him to show his hand," Lust finished with a smile. "That'll work."


	10. Chapter 10

Wayne knew instantly that something was amiss, yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It wasn't merely the strange man from the videos, or Lust's apparent reluctance to discuss the image with him; it was something else… a vague unease that stirred unpleasantly in his gut. He couldn't neatly pin its origin, but he assumed it had something to do with the mystery connection between Lust and the man. The fact that they had some kind of link- whatever it was- unsettled him. He sighed, breathing in deeply and slowly letting the air escape through his mouth.

He was still in front of the monitors, where he had been since last night, watching as the building burst into flames a million times over. He yawned despite himself; it had been over twenty hour since he had last slept, and stretched in his chair, closing his eyes. The explosion flickered through his eyelids, a soundless lullaby of light that soon faded from his existence as he fell asleep.

He was awoken by the sharp sounds of heels clicking against hard floor. He snapped himself up, spinning around, eyes scanning the area for danger even as his mind automatically reasoned that he would find none, telling himself that high heels were hardly the standard equipment for arsonists and serial killers. He did not relax, however, until Lust's slender shape made its way into his vision. He dropped his arms, and frowned slightly at her, watching her slow grin in return. Her red lips reminded him as they had before, disturbingly, of bloodstained rubies, and her teeth flashed against the glossed sheen of her mouth. Her eyes shone, and he studied them clinically, wondering why his senses pricked uncomfortably as he did so. There was something unfamiliar in those violet depths, he eventually decided, something off.

He chose to ignore it, to simply lump it together with the rest of his disquiet. He looked at her again, and the edges of her grin stretched, before her mouth returned to a purposefully neutral line.

"Why are you here?" he demanded at last, softening the hard edge of his words with a gentle confusion. "If you had wanted to come, you should have let me know in advance."

"I didn't want to worry you," she told him, but her attempt to soothe him seemed flat and artificial. "But I thought you and I should have a frank little chat."

"Oh?" he asked, interest suddenly perking up. He pulled out a second seat for Lust and offered it to her. She sat, smoothing the front of her skirt. He sat down on his chair, and leaned forward. "What is it?"

Lust's gaze darted around quickly, and her tongue flicked out to brush against her lower lip. "This is a bit… embarrassing," she admitted, "but I'll confess I haven't been completely honest with you. Especially yesterday." She frowned. "I am sorry," she apologized, and then continued, "but the subject matter I'm about to discuss is… delicate, I suppose."

"Go on," he urged, a note of impatience creeping into his tone. Internally, however, he heaved a great sigh of relief, glad that Lust had finally decided to be honest with him, his previous misgiving momentarily abandoned.

She did. "The truth is… I do know who the bomber is. This isn't just a guess, or rampant speculation, I _know_ who he-" her finger stabbed towards the image of the man on the screen, before he vanished into the crowd "- is." She paused. "His name is Kimblee, and you were correct in that he is indeed an alchemist from Amestris. However, he is ruthless, and utterly devoid of empathy."

Wayne nodded, what felt like a thousand emotions blinking to life and warring with each other: anger, relief, sadness, fear, appreciation, desire, rage, annoyance… and then he pushed them aside, locking his eyes on Lust's. "Tell me more about him," he said, "is he like Copper?"

"Not quite. Copper may have managed to come through to our world, but in comparison to Kimblee, his power is quite limited, as it primarily requires direct contact and its effects are restricted. The explosion you witnessed is only a small sample of Kimblee's ability." A dark scowl contorted her features. "I have no idea how he came here- I had been assured of his death- but he is, and this promises to get… potentially problematic." She eyed him, and though Wayne could clearly see the recognizable look of calculation in her gaze, her assessment was not as coldly amused as he had come to expect. Rather, this new expression seemed much more… gleeful, and it lacked the clinical measurement of Lust.

Wayne nodded slowly, and rose from the seat. Looking at the creature on the seat, he said carefully, "I'm grateful you came here. But I wonder why Lust couldn't have come herself, Envy."

The shapeshifter didn't so much as twitch. Keeping Lust's form, it pushed itself up from the chair, and faced Wayne, a wide smile painted to its features. "She's busy."

Lust had been waiting over two and a half hours, until he finally arrived. She noted his presence, but did not look at him, merely continued to stare at the husk of a building Kimblee had blown up. It was nearly gone, just a small little blackened ruin sitting amid rubble and ash that blew around the limp yellow police tape draped around its perimeter.

He was beside her now, pretending to admire the view as well. "Lovely work, isn't it?" he asked her cordially.

"I've seen better," she dismissed, and turned to him, taking in every inch of his body with a type of delayed shock. He was really here, in this world that was her new home, he who was supposed to be nothing but a fragment of Pride's collective of souls. He smiled.

She did not ask him how he survived. It was not because she did not care (quite the contrary, in fact), it was simply not relevant. There were far more pressing matters to attend to, and she voiced her prime concern. "What are your goals here, Kimblee?" she asked him, watching as his expression remained unreadable, "What do you want?"

He took a second before he said anything. "I haven't decided," he told her after a short hesitation. "I did get your attention, though. How did you know to meet me here?"

She scoffed. "You weren't exactly subtle."

His smile was light. "Fair enough."

There was another silence, and then Lust said, rephrasing what she had already asked, "What are you going to do?"

"Right now or later?" he grinned, and went on, "Lust, does it really matter?"

"Humor me."

"Very well. I think I'll have my fun with this place. This… Gotham. It's been so terribly fraught with perils, but its residents really haven't seen anything yet." His eyes were fixed on the building, and a small smile played on his lips. His words were unemotional and nonchalant as he continued, "I'll paint this town in red and give them fireworks every night until their screams and the sound of my explosions line up in a perfect pitch." Finally, he turned back to Lust. "Perhaps you will enjoy it as well."

"It is a tempting thought," she conceded, "I do so relish the cries of doomed, and the spilling of innocent blood. I might almost entertain the notion of joining in."

"Almost." It was a statement, not a question.

"Almost," she agreed, and then gave him a smile of her own. "But perhaps I've weakened. I can't allow you to destroy this town, Kimblee." 

"And why is that?"

"My reasons are my own."

"We seem to be at an impasse, then."

"It seems so." Her fingernails lengthened slightly, in preparation for what was to come. He didn't move, and she quickly flicked her spears outwards towards him, spiraling them towards the ground, and then up as he ducked and wove his way around them. Frustrated, she retracted them, and then realigned them. The second before she sent them flying towards Kimblee a second time, the ground between them erupted in a tremendous bang, and bits of the streets flew outwards. She jumped back, covering her face with her arms, the smoke making her vision murky and dark.

"See you soon." The words were whispered on the breeze, and she blinked rapidly, clearing her eyes. But, by the time her vision had returned to normal, he was gone, with nothing but the lingering smoke and the ruined street for company.


End file.
